What Doesn't Kill You
by Hamsandwich Leopard
Summary: Coming back from the dead was bound to have complications. Is a fresh start preferable to bringing your fears and regrets with you? Especially when your eyes glow red and your face is marred by the damage you've suffered along the way. ME2 through the eyes of the Commander himself.
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

David Anderson once told me we should hold on to our past, but not let it have a hold on us. For all he had seen he was an optimistic man. It's a side of him I'd never really understood.

I wish I could tell him, now that we've finally reached our goal, how much I valued that. Even if I didn't know it at the time. Back in the early days, when a dishonourable discharge and a custodial sentence seemed as likely as a transfer to the vaunted N7 programme, he made me see the light at the end of the tunnel. And not just me, if not for a his having my back before some key members of a certain military tribunal, this all would have turned out quite differently.

For everyone. Everywhere.

But I won't be telling Anderson anything. I won't be telling anyone. That time has passed for me now. I tried not to leave anything unsaid and I hope my friends know that. But I know too that although I'm still _me, _in some indefinable, vital way, I'm also not me, not just me, anymore. The longer I go and the farther I take this, the more of what connects me, or connected me to the people I love, will slip away, as it gets absorbed into the entity that now makes up my consciousness.

I have a decision to make about what I do now, and what I become. In a way I have no time at all. It has been less than a minute since the crucible went dark, and a cascade of energy propagated and multiplied from relay to relay across the entire Milky Way. On hundreds of worlds across billions of miles the monolithic forms of the reapers still dominate the skylines. Inert, for the time being.

In another way though, I've got all the time I need. The mind of the catalyst could count the stars in the sky in a thousandth of a second.

272 Billion, give or take. Where was I?

The man I was didn't let the past have a hold over him. Growing up on Earth, living the life of a petty criminal I was a thug with no prospects. When my recklessness caught up with me and a career as an Alliance marine seemed like a better alternative to looking over my shoulder the rest of my life, however short that would have been, I cast that part of me off like the first rockets that ever left the earth.

After the Blitz, when a hasty battlefield promotion saw me dragging my platoon through the series of bunkers that the press would later name the meat grinder on Torfan. When the same hack journalists called me 'butcher' and Batarians and humans alike called for my discharge or execution; (mostly that was the Batarians preferred option. . . mostly), I didn't let that shit get to me. I kept my head down and quietly disappeared behind the wall of secrecy and classified actions that comes with being N7. By the time I rotated out of Spec Ops and onto the SR1 I'd ranked up, and the 'Butcher of Torfan' was many a news cycle ago. Ancient history.

But it turns out I didn't know what 'Ancient History' could really mean, not like I do now that's for sure. And now that peace is upon us and I'm unlikely to ever again hear the crack and thump of supersonic of ammunition passing me by, I might have to admit, the last few years, they've taken a toll.

And I don't think I can ignore that

Now that the momentum of the mission, the urgency that was always in the back of my mind, underpinning my every decision, is gone, Can I really say that what I've done is righteous? Or at least justified? Can I say that what is left of me now, is fit to control this power I've taken? Afterall, what I decide to do with myself now, with the entirety of myself . . . well there's going to be consequences, there always are. There are billions of people still out there. Some of them I know, some of them I love. There's part of me that is going to want to tell them that, even though I died, I'm here and we won. But the implications, they're astronomical, literally.

Back when I was starting out on the SR2 we had a psychologist with us, Kelly. She was cheerful, nice, and no more Cerberus really than I was. Her job was to keep us all sane enough that we could blow the Omega 4 relay and knock the collectors out of the game, preferably without dying in the attempt. When she told me what she was there to do I told her to keep her psychoanalysis away from me. I said it with a smile and we both laughed, but I was deadly serious at the time. It didn't stop her of course, after all I was her primary concern. We still got on, but I never let my guard down around her about that stuff.

In the end I stayed sane enough to get the job done, but like I said, things are clear now in ways they have never been before and if I'm going to stay John Shepard, stay true to myself, in the face of all I know and all I now see, well, I'd better keep hold of my past.

And it seems I've got some stuff to work through after all.

I'm certainly not omniscient. But I can calculate the odds to a lot of decimal places. Those odds are telling me Kelly's dead. Like so many after the Reapers finally took the Citadel. And yeah that saddens me. It also pisses me off, like I said, I'm still me. But just like the Catalyst could simulate a boy I knew for all of 2 minutes on Earth, I can bring her back, or at least simulate her, 'here' in the room I've made for myself. It's pretty much a replica of the Captains' Cabin on the SR2, fish tank and everything. It does however feel empty and quiet. The background noise of the ship is conspicuously absent and if you look out the skylight there's just blackness outside. The man I was, he would have laughed about the potential of this virtual reality I've created. Like lucid dreaming that is as vivid and as real as I care to make it. I could summon up Jack Harper and finally kill that fucker again with my bare hands this time. I could summon up every women who's' every made me look twice and, well . . . the possibilities are limitless.

Limitless and meaningless. And not just meaningless because they're limitless. None of this is real for anyone but me, and I didn't go through all that shit, and do all the things I did, for myself. So yeah, I won't engage in the fantasies of primal urges that, on closer inspection, I don't even possess anymore.

Huh. I'll worry about that later.

I cast my gaze over to the model ships arrayed over my desk. A hobby, if you can call it that, that got me no end of mockery from more than one person. For some reason the Geth ship isn't there, which strikes me as odd, it was there the last time I was in my cabin, back when I was a man. I put that to the back of my mind too and look back at my couch and there she is. Sat to my right, the friendly smile playing across her face like it used to. Her red hair is longer than it was when I saw her on the citadel. It's like it was before the Collector base. So are her clothes, black and white, but this time without the golden hexagon of the Cerberus logo, I don't really want that here.

It's good to see you again Kelly, and I'm Sorry. I'm ready this time, if you are.

Where do I want to jump in? The beginning would be the obvious answer wouldn't it? But no, like I said, that's not the past that has a hold over me.

I think I'd like to start at the end. Not this end though, the first one. Yeah you know, the first time I died.

I might have a drink whilst we talk, want one?


	2. Lazarus Reborn

_One: Lazarus Reborn _

How it happened and how I remember it, they're not quite the same. As Karen Chakwas told me later, when you take a blow to the head, when you suffer _trauma to the cerebral cortex,_ one of the easiest things to lose is recent memory. It's still there at the top of your brain, waiting to be transferred to long term memory and when the lights go out for a second it's gone. (Karen always hated how I'd simplify what she was trying to tell me '_That's not how it works at all commander, why don't you just stick to the shooting and let me worry about the medicine_'.

I was in my Cabin when the Collectors hit, Off shift. Pressly, as XO, had the bridge. I was writing an email to Kaiden, he hadn't come back on the crew, even after Saren was done and I was trying to reach out to him, to try and mend some bridges. I hadn't got past the first line when I heard Joker over the general address "Brace for evasive manoeuvres" and . ..

And the next thing I knew I was in a room. I was in a white room on a bed. My vision was blurred and everything sounded distant, far away. There were machines, one in particular beeping very insistently, it sounded like. I felt like I'd been holding my breath, I was gasping, breathing like I couldn't get enough oxygen and I couldn't really feel my arms or legs. A man was speaking in urgent tones.

_"Oh my god Miranda I think he's waking up_".

There was a hint of wonder there too. I couldn't see anybody at this point, but I could just make out a woman speaking

" -_not ready, give him the sedative_."

And I felt it, a coolness washing over me, not unlike the feel of medigel over a wound, only this time it was everywhere. The feeling seemed to reach a crescendo and I felt myself slipping away. But From there, the feeling began to fade again, the sharpness returning to the world and what was now turning into panic, rising again. I reached out with my right hand, it felt heavy. I couldn't move the left one at all. The women leant into my field of view and took my hand. There was no affection in the gesture really, she laid my hand back across my chest, business-like almost, but gentle too.

_"Don't try to move Shepard, just lie back and try to stay calm."_

I was still in a state of half panic, my heart thumping like It used to be for me back when firefights were still a new experience. But as I stared into her eyes, latched onto her steady gaze, I did start to feel calmer. Her eyes were blue, piercingly so, and she looked down on me like she had my measure completely, like she knew exactly what she was doing. I was both charged on adrenaline and doped up on whatever this sedative was. But all I could think in that moment was that she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I was utterly transfixed. I forgot where I was, or rather that I didn't know where I was. It was only a couple of seconds before another dose hit me and I slipped back into unconsciousness again. I heard the voices as I drifted off, they were arguing I think, but I no longer cared. I was out in moments.

In my memory the transition is seamless. One moment I'm in my cabin on the SR1 the next . . . I'm somewhere else. But in reality, there was about half an hour that I lost after Joker's initial alert. Although as we both know, it was actually 817 days. From what I could piece together, it goes a little like this.

Following the initial impact I sent a mayday report from my terminal in my cabin. I threw my suit on by my locker on the crew deck outside and programmed the launch of the ships distress beacon. By that time the damage to the Normandy was catastrophic and I broadcast the order to abandon ship on the priority channel. In short order the crew, as well drilled as any flying in the Alliance, were mostly embarked in their escape pods, or soon to be.

I'd be the first to laugh off a romantic notion like going down with the ship, but as the CO I had the responsibility to make sure everyone still living made it to the escape pods. I gather Liara didn't want to leave me at first. She was still too new to all this, times of crisis. In the end though It was Joker who was to be the fatal pain in my ass.

Weather out of some romantic notion of his own, or a defiance crossing well over into delusion, he stayed in the pilots chair, trying to bring the ship around on one barley functional thruster as the unknown vessel came about for another attack. I dragged him out and apparently, a couple of small fracture's on Joker's part notwithstanding, we almost made it.

I got him into the pod before the Collector weapon scythed across the Normandy's starboard thrusters, causing massive overloads on all the electronics across the ship. Due to this, a section of compressed air that made up part of the airlock mechanism ignited inside the hull, sending a burning shockwave through the vacuum. This launched me into the aft wall of the CIC, breaking my back and cracking both my helmet and skull beneath before the wave of titanium shrapnel from the inner bulkhead perforated my torso and faceplate. The largest piece, as I understand it, described a trajectory through my left mandible, severing my jaw on that side before carrying on through the wall into the expanse of space, where it is, more than likely, still going. Probably alongside a few of my teeth for good measure.

Grisly stuff I know, though I doubt I felt it at the time.

The CIC wall had mostly absorbed my momentum, enough for me to reach the emergency launch switch on the escape pod console. According to Joker I pushed the switch without hesitation. Pretty heroic right?

From then on the only witness to events was myself. I can only guess that a secondary explosion somewhere threw me clear of the Normandy wreckage and into a fast degrading orbit of the planet Alchera. The extensive damage to my hardsuit meant that the remaining air escaped at a rate too fast for my helmets recycler to compensate for. I likely asphyxiated in seconds. From there the relatively low gravity of Alchera accelerated me down to its surface, where I hit, landing in kilometre deep snow drifts, breaking almost every bone in my body. In the -40 temperature I was likely frozen in minutes.

As I say it now, I know it sounds more like a debriefing then lived experience. But second-hand intel. and my own conclusions are all I have of that short time. I often wonder what my last thoughts were.

I can only be grateful that I discovered most of the details sometime after.

Do I blame Joker? I mean you don't have to be a machine god to see that if he'd done what he was supposed to, he and I would have both happily drifted in the empty for a few days before the SSV Everest carrier group came to pick us up. But no, I didn't hold it against him then, and I don't now. It's a sad truth that, in his mind, Joker was nothing without the Normandy. I don't think he was willing to go back to being just a cripple with a feigned arrogance after being the pilot of the most advanced ship in the sky. It's no wonder he jumped when they offered him the SR2.

Not literally of course, brittle bones, remember?

Do I wish that hadn't happened to me? I mean, how can I now? Seeing how it all turned out. But I'm not going to lie, if you'd asked me that then, when we first met; yes. Fuck yes.

Ah you're right, you did ask me that then.

When I woke up the second time things were different. It was gradual, like coming out of a deep sleep. I knew that time had passed, in stark contrast to my last memories. It was a different room, lacking the clinical white walls and bright overhead lights of an operating theatre. But it wasn't your standard hospital bed either. I could tell by the slight sensation in my inner ear that I wasn't in natural gravity, but the artificial gravity of a mass effect field. A ship then, or a space station. Arcturus perhaps? Or even the Citadel. The wall opposite me was frosted glass, but the dimensions of the room suggested a one-way viewing window on the other side. Propped up as I was, I could see 2 people in the room with me. There was a woman seated on a stool by my bed and a man leaning by the doorway. He was dark skinned, well built, with a demeanour that said 'security' to me. I caught his eye and he nodded ever so slightly. The woman beside me was older, with grey hair cut short and a look of clinical detachment on her face as she read her data pad.

"Looks like he's up Doc" said the dark-skinned man by the door.

The other one, the doctor gazed up from her datapad "Right." she said, eyes narrowing like he was checking me off for defects. "Commander Shepard my name is Doctor Evlyn, can you understand me? "

I looked back impassively. Every muscle felt sore, felt like I'd pushed it to the limit in the gym the day before. My throat was dry and there was an ache starting in my jaw going up to behind my left eye. There actually wasn't a whole lot of me that felt normal. I tried to clear my throat and reply

"Yeah, I understand" I paused, not knowing where to begin. My voice was hoarse and strange sounding, like it wasn't quite my own. "Where am I?"

"This is a hospital Commander. Do you know what happened to you?"

I tried to put it together, but the pieces weren't there, the last thing I remembered was being in my cabin, Joker coming over the comm . . .

"I was on my ship, there was . . . I don't know, something . . . happened."

Something had happened to me, something major. Whilst I wasn't in too much pain, nothing felt quite right. I put a hand up to my face, there was scarring, what felt like a lot of it. Yet It felt more numb than anything. I figured whatever it was, it was bad enough that Dr Chakwas had had to have me evacd to the nearest medical facility.

"Are any others from my crew here then? Where's the Normandy now? " I thought about if for a second, "how long have I been here exactly?"

The woman, Evlyn didn't show much reaction. The security guy by the door though, I made out the slightest look of concern on his face, directed at the doctor. There was a touch of distaste there, as if he wasn't fully comfortable with something.

"You don't need to worry about that Commander" Evlyn said, "we'll tell you everything you need to know soon, but before we go any further we need to establish a couple of things, run a few tests, just to make sure there isn't anything we missed. Do you understand?"

"Is this an Alliance facility then?" It didn't look like one. Dr Evlyn wore the standard lab coat that you tended to see on doctors. The man by the door was dressed in black, the material looked like it had an ablative mesh weaved into it and I could make out a personal shield generator on his belt. Definitely not standard issue for any security guard I'd ever seen. The equipment around me too, it just seemed too high spec. Like most large militaries, the equipment the Alliance used was functional and generic. I'd spent some time in medical facilities, both as patient and visitor. I didn't recognise anything here.

"It's a private facility commander." The doctor replied. "We were the most qualified to provide the level of care you required." The man seemed to snort slightly at this. "Now please, there's just a few tests we need to run." She stood over me, shining a pen light into one eye then the other. "Tell me do you feel any discomfort at all? If so where abouts?"

"I . . ." I began but an intercom system sprang to life and an automated voice began to speak before I could continue.

"_Attention, all personnel, security lockdown is now in effect by command of station director Lawson, please muster at your designated area and await further instructions. Response designation is 2 Zulu, personal air recycler units are to be carried but need not be worn. Attention, all personnel . . ."_

The message repeated as both the rooms occupants brought up there omnitools.

"Network's down." Said the man, looking troubled. "Can we move him Doctor?"

"It's not advisable Jacob" Evlyn replied "There's a number of neurological tests we need to do before we allow full motor activity. Best just to wait it out here. This is no doubt another of Operative Lawson's drills."

"No way she'd be running those today Doc." Jacob replied indicating at me, sat up in the hospital bed.

At that moment the door opposite me slid open. Another man walked in this one bald, with fair skin and worry lines etched into his features. His white on black trousers and T-shirt had a militaristic feel to them and there was a logo, an orange hexagon in the left corner of his shirt that I instantly recognised.

"Doctor Wilson what's going on?" Doctor Evlyn asked, showing equal parts apprehension and annoyance. Wilson's entrance now obviously wasn't part of the script. I could see why that might be.

The man, Wilson, was breathing hard I saw, like he'd run to get here. "We've got a situation, there were hostiles aboard the supply shuttle when it returned, they're on their way here, we've got to move."

"How'd they get near us? They shouldn't have had the docking codes." Jacob asked. "This is an inside job, it's got to be."

"You might be right Jacob" Wilson replied "But right now we've got to get ourselves, and him, off this station. These guys aren't playing around and you know we only had a skeleton crew to begin with." Wilson looked me over, a slight smile on his face "Sorry about this Shepard, we're kind of throwing you in at the deep end after all."

"Don't worry about it" I said making to get out of the bed, "and you are?"

"Just call me Wilson, I'm one of the Docs here who helped put you back together" he said as I stood up. I was stiff, in the knees, ankles, elbows, everywhere. My back and my quads felt tight, protesting the sudden movement. As I stood my head began to pound with the increase in blood flow. I was naked so I motioned to Doctor Evelyn to pass me a pair of sweatpants that were folded on a nearby drawer. She did so looking vexed more than anything, that my recovery was being so rushed. "We need to get to the top of the station and take the emergency shuttle" Wilson was saying "It's the other end from the cargo bay and we should make it before they get here, the mechs are slowing them down."

We exited the room into a corridor, Jacob took up position up front a side arm drawn. "Uh, you forgetting the rest of the crew Wilson?" He said over his shoulder "That shuttle an takes 12 at a stretch, which is one less then we got here, plus we need to get back in comms with Miranda, for all we know she's got this shit locked down by now, or she might need our help."

"There's no time for that!" Wilson replied. "You said it yourself, it's an inside Job, who knows which of the staff we can trust now. For all we know Miranda set this up!"

"No fuckin' way man. I know Miranda, she's put more into this thing than any of us"

"Maybe you're right, but we can't afford to wait" A burst of automatic fire somewhere far off interrupted Wilson, emphasising his point. There was a further pair of shots, and the pace of the group increased, moving through a corridor with windows opening onto living quarters, server rooms, labs and a cafeteria.

"We'll make our way to the Shuttle and hold there for the others" Jacob said. "I'm responsible for everyone Wilson, this is where I earn my paycheck. In the meantime, get on your omnitool, try and find out why we can't get comms. Doctor Evlyn grab the next med kit you see just in case. It's not far to the elevator, that should take us straight up to the shuttle bay."

Walking was feeling a little better for me now, my muscles having warmed up with the brisk pace, lack of shoes notwithstanding. Jacob was still in the lead, his pistol, an SA Carnifex., held in an alert position as he cleared the doorways and corners as we walked. Doctor Evlyn had found a med kit and was rummaging through it and Wilson had produced a compact mk2 predator from somewhere and was nervously eyeing Jacob as we made our way down the corridor.

"Anyone got a gun for me?" I asked, trying to flex some the stiffness out of my hands.

"You're not ready for that" Doctor Evlyn muttered still sounding vexed.

Jacob looked back at me and paused, considering "Whoever these guys are, we should make it to the top level long before they reach us Shepard." He glanced down at his carnifex and back at me "Tell you what, if it turns out you need one, you got it. My word on that."

"Ok then" I replied, "Hope we know in time" I wasn't surprised. I wasn't on their side after all.

We came into a large open room scattered with supply crates. Across from us there was a narrow stairway leading to another floor and beyond that what I took to be the elevator. The door panel was lit red in the way that said 'locked' and there were 3 bodies sprawled out in front of the closed doors. I could just about make out the gunshot wounds from across the room. Between us and the corpses, all dressed in uniforms similar to Wilson's, there were 4 security mechs. I couldn't tell the brand, but they were the standard bipedal models with front facing optics and what looked like tempest submachine guns as armaments. As the pressure door behind us returned to the closed position all 4 turned round in jerky mechanical motions and pointed their weapons at us.

"_Station Security, stand still." _Came their oddly conversational electronic voices, all in unison.

"The hell?" Jacob said "We're friendlies, security mechs stand down! Override Hotel Tango 223"

The code word had no discernible effect, the red ring that sat in the faceplate of the mech troopers remained red, signifying their alert status.

"Try your ID Badge" said Doctor Evlyn, stepping to the front and fishing a small card from her back pocket.

As she held it up one of the mechs pointed its tempest at her "_Danger, hostile detected. Lethal force authorised." _As Jacob made a grab for the doctor the mech fired a staccato burst into Doctor Evlyn, the rounds impacting Jacobs' shields and her torso, dropping her to the ground.

"Cover!" Jacob cried, the same time Wilson cried "Shiiiiit!" I was already diving for the nearest supply crate. Jacob went the other way and made it behind a crate of his own but Wilson, his eyes still wide with shock, caught a couple of rounds in the leg as the rest of the mechs opened fire on us. "Ah fucking shit!" he cried again as he managed to quickly slump behind the crate I was using, blood spreading out from the wounds to his thigh. Jacob popped over his cover and hit the nearest mech in the chest plate with his Carnifex. The high calibre round left a sizable hole in the machine. It collapsed and twitched on the ground but the three remaining mechs all switched fire to his position, forcing him to hunker down.

One of the mechs moved to flank Jacobs position, still laying down suppressing bursts, moving closer to my own cover as it did. The moment its line of sight cleared the edge of Jacobs cover he struck out with a familiar blue wave of energy and the mech began to lift slowly as the biotic field Jacob had created carried the mech upwards. I made my move then, grabbing the predator out of Wilsons numb hand as he was wincing and grabbing at the wound in his leg. In one smooth motion I crested the top of the crate, pistol outstretched and fired a rapid succession of hammer pairs into each of the 2 remaining mechs heads. It seemed the old muscle memory was still alive and for a moment my aches and pains and general feeling of wrongness were forgotten. I felt as calm and normal as any of a thousand times I'd stood on a pistol range, practicing the same drill on static targets over and over.

I shoved the still floating mech away from me and fired a further pair into its' head' unit as it drifted away.

"Damn" Jacob muttered, surveying the now defunct mechs

"Agh, shit guys, help me here!" Wilson screamed trying with both hands now to stem the blood seeping from his leg.

I knelt by him, jamming my knee into his thigh, high up near the groin, trying to narrow his femoral artery and slow his bleeding down. As he cried out at the sudden added pain I grabbed up Evlyns fallen medical kit and used the small nano filament blade inside to cut away his pant leg, which was hiding the extent of the wound.

"The artery's not hit, it's not too bad" I said as Jacob came in with a medigel dispenser. He applied the clear gel to the two bullet holes, the clotting factors working in seconds to stem the bleeding. As I felt beneath his leg with my hands, looking for exit wounds, Wilson breathed a sigh of relief as the local aesthetic dulled the pain. There were no other holes apparent. Security mechs tend to be armed with low velocity weapons to create more survivable wounds. Wilson probably had some fragments lodged in his femur right now. I handed him some oral amphetamines out of the medical pack as Jacob slapped a field dressing over the wound.

Jacob moved over to Evlyn but we could both see she was done, she had taken a full burst at close range and most of her internal organs were now mincemeat. I hadn't known her at all and I'd seen worse too many times to feel too much of anything, but Jacob looked troubled, no doubt feeling responsible. _Not exactly the kind of man you usually find wearing that symbol_ I thought, looking one again at the orange hexagon on Wilsons uniform. I'd seen it repeated a couple of time back down through the station and any doubt in my mind about who currently had me, was fading fast.

"These mechs were hacked." Jacob said " Our entire security system's probably compromised. Explains why we can't access the network."

"More proof that you've got a bad Apple on this private station of yours." I replied, with none of the guardedness I felt.

"We should get going" Wilson added, wincing as he pulled himself to his feet, keeping the weight off his injured leg.

"I should still be able to override the elevator." Jacob said moving toward the far side of the room. I grabbed his arm as he walked by.

"Probably should lock this one first" I said nodding to the door we had come through. "I don't think the rest of your staff will be joining us.

Jacob frowned but nodded grimly. As he set to work, I picked up the ID card Doctor Evlyn had dropped.

_Opt. Evlyn (MD, PHD)_

_40185652_

_Lazarus_

_SC 4_

Next to this information was a photo of the doctor with even shorter hair then she had had now, along with the familiar logo embossed underneath. I had picked up an ID card just like this once off the corpse of an EXO-GENI executive in a remote outpost on an uninhabited planet. That card had belonged to an Operative Synder. His ID had read 'Gardner' not Lazarus, as in 'project Gardner', which had been a black op intended to propagate and weaponize a very nasty alien disease, using human and alien subjects. Interestingly his SC number, I assumed it meant security clearance, had been 3 not 4. Not that I knew whether a higher or lower number was better or worse.

"Got it." Jacob declared as the doors to the elevator hissed open. "We can take this straight to the emergency shuttle bay"

"Finally," Wilson moaned limping over.

"Can't wait" I echoed, checking the clip in Wilson's pistol.

I first encountered Cerberus during my pursuit of Saren, back before Sovereign, back when the term Reapers was just a vague reference I heard on a recording once.

On the planet Feron I'd met an executive, Michael Trent, of the EXO-GENI corporation. He was among a group of employees of that corporation, ousted from their headquarters by the invading Geth forces. My own forays into that building had given me some startling revelations, not least of which was the fact that the colony on Feron was being intentionally exposed to an ancient alien pathogen, with the aim to weaponize it. The experiment was being run by an element of the EXO-GENI staff there under the command of Trent, operating under the banner of a black ops group calling itself Cerberus.

Trent fled Feron before I could confront him. But with the help of an Alliance rear admiral who was already aware of this Cerberus' existence, I was able to track Trent to a facility on the planet Nepheron, a remote and uninhabited world. My crew and I infiltrated the facility and found human and alien experiments using the pathogen first discovered on Feron.

We wiped them out, down on Nepheron. When we tore that place apart I found out that Michael Trent was actually Operative Robert Synder. It turned out his cell, the one we had found, was part of a larger whole, a breakaway black Ops group. They were responsible for some unspeakable shit on in that facility. It left a bad taste and shot a divide up between the humans and aliens on board when we had just been starting to really click. Even Wrex' stoicism had been rocked.

The Admiral, Kahoku his name was, didn't survive for his part. Cerberus ended up being a lot bigger and more powerful than either of us anticipated. The scent went cold when he did. But he wouldn't be their last victim in the quest for human superiority. Far from it.

We rode the elevator straight up to the top deck. It was nothing more than small hanger with a lone zodiac shuttle off to one side. The opposite wall was open to space, with an active mass effect field holding back the vacuum. As the doors parted I saw a man in the white and black uniform sat down in the shuttle, legs hanging over the lip of the main compartment entrance. Directly before us, not 4 feet away there was a woman, a Locust SMG held in one hand to her side.

I recognised her straight away. The woman from before. She had black hair and lean form that was complemented by the white combat suit she wore. She still had the face of an angel. Hell, I'd practically mistaken for one in that first hazy meeting. She looked less angelic now, with a deep frown on her face and her machine pistol pointed directly at Wilson.

"Miranda! but you're supposed to . . . " Wilson stammered.

2 things happened then at the same time. The woman, Miranda, shot Wilson, once, right between the eyes.

Simultaneously I grabbed the top slide of Jacobs weapon just as he began to raise it. I punched my other hand, still holding the predator, into the tendons on his wrist, allowing me to take the carnifex out of his now limp hand. I drove my foot into the back of his knee bringing him down to a kneeling position, with his own gun now being driven down on his collar bone. I had the predator pointed at Miranda. The third man sat slightly off on an angle behind her, only just catching up to the new turn of events. This Miranda still held the Locust but I was confident I could gun both of them down before she'd be able to bring it to bear on me.

"You can drop that now." I said, voice level

"He was the traitor Shepard, he hacked the security system to wipe us out and kidnap you." She remained impassive as she slowly lowered her gun to the floor, making a conspicuous effort not to bring it in my direction.

"We're on your side Shepard." Added Jacob, the pain of my foot pinning his shin to the floor evident in his tone. "Just take it easy." Then to Miranda, "And what that hell? Wilson warned us about the attack, he took one in the leg himself!"

"There was no attack Jacob, Wilson just raised a false alarm to activate the mechs, with his own override already programmed. I saw them wipe out the crew on the security feeds, but he walked right past them. He got hit yes, but from what I saw they were aiming for Shepard" She shot a glance at me, "nice shooting by the way." I gave a half smile, which had the effect of pulling on the scar tissue criss-crossing one side of my face.

That killed my smile straight away. "Look" I said, my 2 guns still trained on Miranda and Jacob both. "I believe you, I don't care. The fact is I'm not going anywhere in that shuttle, that Cerberus wants to take me."

Miranda's eyes went flat and I felt Jacobs head drop slightly "Ahh shit."

I continued. "Here's what going to happen. I'm going to get in that shuttle and find the nearest Alliance fleet. I'm no pilot it's true, but It's not like I've got to land the thing." The man sat on the shuttle behind Miranda scowled at that. "I don't have all the facts yet, but if you 3 play nice, I'll leave you here and maybe you'll get scooped up by your people before an Alliance fleet comes by to torch this place. You try to stop me now and I'll blow you away and that'll be just another Cerberus cell I've shut down."

"We're further out then you think Shepard" Miranda sighed "There's nothing out there within the range of that shuttle, unless you know where to look."

"What's more" Jacob continued. "We're on your side, really. I know you and Cerberus have a sketchy past. Some cells have done some rouge shit, believe me I know, but they're not us man. And besides, there's things you need to hear Shepard, it's not . . . you don't . . ."

He trailed off and looked to Miranda. She give the slightest raise of an immaculate eyebrow. "What year do you think this is Shepard?"

The question threw me. The way I saw it, it couldn't have been more than a few days since whatever brought me here had happened. "What . . . do you mean." I looked but Miranda's Face gave nothing away. "It's 83, August" I paused "Is it still August?"

"No" Miranda replied. "It's not August." She looked to Jacob then back to me "Its January, 2185. it's been 2 years. 2 years since the Normandy SR1 was destroyed by unknown forces off the planet Alchera. 2 year since Commander John T Shepard, N7 Systems Alliance was discovered amidst the Normandy's wreckage on Alchera's surface and brought here."

_Suffocating, diaphragm squeezing and racking but no air, need . . . air!_

"Bullshit, no one could survive that."

Miranda looked back to Jacob "Quite."

It hit me then all at once.

The sedative that is.

Whilst she had been talking Miranda had used her biotics to lift an auto injector around my field of view into Jacobs hand. I hadn't even felt the needle as, without so much as shuffling, Jacob had stuck it into my calf on the leg that held his own pinned. You have to hand it to them, they made a good team.

By the time my brain caught up with the new turn of events my arm had drooped and Miranda was taking the Predator gently out of my hand. I felt my balance going as the darkness closed in. I slumped, would have hit the deck were it not for Jacob catching me and lowering me down. I could just make out their voices, coming from far away, as consciousness left me.

"_Well great Miranda, he's probably going to be twice as pissed when he comes to."_

_"At least we have the dosage right this time. Let's get him on the shuttle, he'll see reason when he knows the whole story"_

_"You sure about that? I don't know if 'd want to see reason if I was in his shoes right now"_

_"I'm sure. And if not? there's always plan B"_

_"And we both know you'd love to say I told you so on that one. I don't know though, I'm still dead set against that idea."_

_"Well we better had better be convincing then, grab his legs." _

_"You think he would have actually done it? Shot us that is."_

"_I think we both know the answer to that question."_


	3. Freedom or Progress

_2: Freedom or Progress_

_"Wake up Shepard"_

_Ashley's' voice. We're back on the Normandy. She's there with me in the confines of the Mako interior. Her long hair tousled and my N7 t shirt reaching down to her mid-thigh. During the 'night' shift on the Normandy the cargo bay was practically deserted and we had recently discovered that inside the APC was about the most privacy as you could get on a ship that size. Ashley still joked about 'the regs' that we were breaking, but I could tell that she wasn't 100% comfortable with our 'fraternisation violations' being common knowledge. I tended to agree on one point, it was a distraction the crew didn't need right now, not with how serious this mission was becoming._

_"5 more minutes." I say, "The galaxy can spare 5 more minutes". _

_Ashley's mischievous grin fades slightly and her brown eyes grow distant. "It hasn't been too patient lately skipper." She looks back to me and I see the doubt in her expression. " Every time we go out, we seem to get in harder fights. At the end we're left with more scrapes, on body and soul. We always seem to have to make the hard choices. I just worry, you know? How can we be sure they're the right ones?"_

_"They're my choices Ash." I run my hand gently down her back. "You don't have to worry about them."_

_She arches an eyebrow at that. "I'm not a storm-trooper skipper, blindly following orders" Her grin returns. "There is a higher power I gotta answer to, higher even then the dashing Commander Shepard"_

_"Yeah I heard you mention that power plenty, about 5 minutes ago."_

_"Hey!" she replies, hitting me playfully on the arm "Behave" She sits up and starts rummaging around for her own clothes. "I checked whilst you were dozing off, we're actually not that far out from Virmire now."_

_"Well shit" I sigh, reluctantly sitting up myself. "How long have we been lying here?"_

_She looks at me then. I notice with a start that she's now in her combat armour. The alliance blue is scratched and singed, tendrils of smoke coming off it. From below the neck line of the chest plate her skin is turning blacked and charred, like ash, spreading upward past her neck and onto her face. As the damage reaches her eyes she closes them, smoke seeping out from between her eyelids_

_"2 years" She whispers as her hair catches fire._

"What?" I said, startled, awake once more. I was in the back of a shuttle. The Cerberus shuttle. The lighting was dimmed. It was only me on the row of 3 seats, still dressed in the sweat pants from my room on the space station. Miranda and Jacob were sat opposite me, the former looking at me plainly, the latter looking out thoughtfully through the virtual window. I couldn't see the third man, but I assumed he was on the other side of the privacy screen, flying us to wherever it was we were going.

"I said it hasn't been 2 years this time." Miranda replied, only the slightest hint of mockery in her voice. "More like half an hour. We had to drug you for own safety."

"Uh huh. Well thank you so much for that. Why no restraints then? Not worried _I_ might still be needing that safety?"

"We were hoping you would see reason Shepard. But if it comes to it we are both Biotics, and you're unarmed and out-numbered. Worst case scenario, the pilot can vent us all into space. Mine and Jacobs' recyclers should keep us alive long enough to get picked up again." She looked me up and down. "You on the other had are wearing sweatpants and nothing else, hardly combat rated vacuum protection. History has already shown you don't take well to being spaced."

"Ouch. Your bedside manner could use some work Doctor Lawson"

"Oh man you have no idea" Jacob said quietly, but Miranda continued, shooting Jacob the smallest of annoyed glances.

"I'm not a doctor Shepard, though I've had to advance my own medical expertise significantly since I took on project Lazarus. Your hurt feeling aside-" I scowled but she continued. "There's a lot we should discuss. You obviously must have a lot of questions. If we can agree not to kill each other in the back of this shuttle, we'd be happy to provide whatever answers we can."

I didn't want to admit it, but she made sense. They clearly weren't trying to kill me. From what I could tell their intention had been exactly the opposite. The fact that I was awake now, unbound and seemingly unharmed suggested to me that I could at least afford to hear them out.

"Fine" a sharp twinge of pain behind my left eye brought my hand to my face. It faded quickly to a dull pulsing. "Where do I even start?"

"Most of your crew made it" Jacob butted in after Miranda wasn't immediately forthcoming. "When the Normandy got hit I mean. They got picked up by the Alliance."

I nodded at him "Thanks, so who attacked the Normandy?"

"No one knows for sure" Jacob answered. "A distress beacon was sent out citing a 'ship of unknown origin. Your pilot, Lieutenant Jeff Munroe had a hard copy of the Normandy's sensor data with him, when he was picked up, alone, in his escape pod-" I frowned at that "-But the ships sensory profile isn't a match for anything we, or anyone else has on record."

"Anyone, else? you sound very sure of that."

"Well we can't say with true certainty." Miranda replied "But our investigations have been very thorough"

"You've got theories though?"

"We do, but that's all they are. We'd be interested to hear your theories once you have all the relevant information."

"OK. Tell me about project Lazarus."

"It is, or was, A Cerberus facility with the single express goal of reviving a person, restoring them to full functionality, a significant amount of time after their fatal wounding."

"Death you mean?"

"Yes"

"Mine, to be specific"

"Uh huh."

"Right . . . "

There was a silence as I took that in. I'd had the misfortune to witness corpses in many stages of decomposition. It doesn't take long for them to stop being 'people.' For the animus, the life that tells us 'this is another sentient being', to leave them. If what Miranda was saying was true . . .

"I can't have been . . . " I stumbled, not really knowing what I was trying to say. It felt like the pain behind my eye was spreading, intensifying. "Look, I've seen what happens to the human body after death, past a certain point there's no going back"

Miranda cocked her head. "What if I told you that very soon, suspiciously soon, after your . . . being killed in action. Your body was recovered and placed into a medical stasis pod. Not that it was easy even then." There was pride in her voice now. " There were many who called the project a hopeless waste of time."

"Wait, retrieved by who?"

"Agents of the shadow broker we think." Jacob replied

"The shadow broker, this is. . ." _This is too much, this is bullshit. _But it felt like the truth. I was used up, the pain in my head was pulsing now, really pulsing.

"Huh" Jacob said looking at me. Although she didn't show it I thought Miranda was troubled too. She produced bottle of small pills.

"Take a couple of these Shepard, they should help with any pain you might be feeling."

I accepted the pills and swallowed them numbly. Miranda was looking as stoic as it seemed she always did. Jacob however was looking at me with a distinct expression of unease written on his face. I made a mental note to try and find a mirror soon.

"How many others?"

They exchanged a glance, not understanding, before comprehension dawned on Miranda's face. "no other subjects. Just you."

"You kind of are project Lazarus now." Jacob added wryly

"Yeah." I'd thought as much. I leaned back slowly. We'd come to the impasse, the real question now;

"Why?"

Miranda leaned back, the doctor talking to her patient now replaced with someone closed off, a negotiator not wanting to give anything away they don't have to.

"There's an answer to that Shepard, but it's not for me to tell you"

Her gaze went distant as she opened up her Omni tool to what looked like the navigation data from the shuttle.

"But were nearly there, you'll get your answers soon enough."

"My friends call me Shepard" I mumbled.

"What was that?" Miranda replied.

"Nothing" I tuned my head to the virtual window. The pills hadn't helped and the throbbing in my head continued as we sped through the void outside.


End file.
